Being Bridget

Have you had a day that wasn’t bad, but everything was just a bit off?  I had one of those yesterday.  It wasn’t upsetting so much as disconcerting.

After a slew of slightly off moments all day long, I went for a run.  It was a good run.  I ran through a sketchy part of town without anything remotely sketchy happening, and it felt like a solid close to the day.  Then I got home and saw my adorable canine friend sitting on the couch.  I felt guilty for not taking him on a walk earlier in the evening, so we immediately went out the door together.  About eight blocks later, I remembered that I had taken him on a half-hour walk right before my run.

At moments like that, I think fond thoughts about Bridget Jones.

Bridget did everything wrong.  She detested the good guy, loved the bad one, made stupid assumptions, couldn’t say the right thing to save her life, and was generally a mess.  And somehow (thanks to the author powers that be), she ended up just peachy.  I fully understand that real life and Chick Flick life do not and should not look the same.  Despite that, I sometimes find myself sending up a mini-prayer that God will be as merciful to me as the authors in charge of Bridget’s fate were to her.  My suaveness and super special skills wouldn’t have gotten me far yesterday.

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